


Intoxicating

by Woodface



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodface/pseuds/Woodface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill isn't so much a happy drunk as she is a friendly one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intoxicating

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to avesnongrata for the prompt, the beta and the title.

Maria Hill isn't so much a happy drunk as she is a friendly one. Natasha finds this out in the middle of a late night subway ride when Maria tugs her down into the seat beside her and buries her nose in Natasha's hair.

"Hill?"

"You smell good." The words are a soft murmur, and Natasha can feel Maria's breath tickle at her hair as she exhales and inhales slowly.

"Do I?"

There's a soft hum and a nuzzle behind Natasha's ear that sends tingles down her spine; she can't decide if she wants to shift closer or away from it. 

"Cinnamon," Maria decides before she shifts away, her hand resting on the back of the seat, but Natasha feels like she can breathe again.

"You're absurd." Natasha casts her a look and shakes her head. Maria didn't have that much to drink, and she's never before been a light weight either. "When was the last time you ate?"

Maria narrows her eyes as she mulls it over. "Egg sandwich for lunch?"

There's a good chance Maria meant lunch yesterday, so Natasha buys them pastries when she finds the bakery at the corner from Maria's apartment still open. She buys two and gets four for free. They're a little bit stale, but Maria tears into them happily.

Half of them are gone by the time they reach Maria's apartment, and Natasha is grateful to find that Maria is, for the most part, a well-coordinated drunk. That doesn't stop her from plucking the keys from Maria's fingers and opening the door for her.

"Didn't realise you knew how those worked," Maria comments. There's a smile tugging at her lips that does the strangest things to Natasha's insides. 

"Don't know what you mean," Natasha says, ushering Maria into her own apartment and flipping on the lights.

"Course you don't," Maria says airily, and she rests her hand on Natasha's shoulder as she leans down to tug off her flats. Only when Maria's toes dig into the thick carpet does she start to tug off her coat, and Natasha is more than a little mesmerised. 

She follows Maria further into the apartment. Its spartan decorations are familiar by now. It's not much different from Natasha's place, but somehow even the lack of decorations make it so much like its inhabitant. 

"I need a shower." It's all the warning Natasha gets before Maria is tugging her buttondown shirt off as she heads to the bathroom. The shirt falls to the floor, and Natasha is left with a fleeting image of tan skin and strong shoulders before the bathroom door closes softly.

She stares at the closed door until she can hear the water turn on, and somehow it's only logical for Natasha to move into the kitchen and make tea. She leaves Maria's mug steeping on the kitchen island and curls herself up on the corner of the couch as she waits. 

"I'm drunk," Maria states as she slumps down beside Natasha not too much later. She never did find her cup of tea in passing, and Natasha presses her own half-empty mug into Maria's hand.

"Thanks," Maria mumbles and takes a long sip. Her nose crinkles at the contents, but she doesn't complain.

"You're the most in control drunk I know," Natasha teases, grinning as Maria huffs into the mug. She shifts slowly, subtly, sliding her legs over Maria's lap. A warm hand settles on her ankle, fingers tracing over the delicate bones, and Natasha swallows thickly.

"Practise," Maria confides, but Natasha doesn't believe her for one second. She doubts Maria lets herself get drunk any more than she is right now, but there's an easiness in the way her fingers trace up her calf that Natasha isn't averse to bringing out more often.

"Liar." She steals the mug away from Maria, downs the contents in one go, and places it on the floor beside her. Maria's fingers curl around the inside of her knee to keep her from toppling down. When Natasha shifts back, they're so much closer, and she wraps her arms around Maria's neck, fingers sliding into short, damp hair.

"Are you going to take advantage of me in this state?" Maria asks, and Natasha tugs gently at her hair as she presses her mouth lightly against hers. 

"I'm going to get you to bed," Natasha corrects, and she can feel the soft smile against her lips more than she can see it. "Just bed, Hill," she feels the need to add.

"Okay," Maria agrees easily. She doesn't push. She never pushes, hasn't in all the weeks they've been dating now.

_Dating._ It's a strange notion. She's fucked men and women alike, used them and left. She's loved and burned, losing a little of herself along the way. She's never dated, not like this, where Maria's arms are warm and comfortable, familiar as they wrap around her. Natasha shifts into the embrace, leans her forehead against Maria's. Their breath mingles, and she can smell Maria's skin, clean and warm, as she closes her eyes. 

It's strange knowing someone like this. Intimate. More intimate than sex. Intimate enough to know that Maria is a friendly drunk, but that right now she isn't _that_ drunk. It's just how she is; it's how _they_ are.


End file.
